Tipping Point: The War With China - the First Salvo (Dan Lenson Novels) by David Poyer Page A

fairly certain not unwillingly, onto his bunk.
    He tore his attention off her breasts and focused on the tall, thin young man in front of him. He was white, as was his accuser, which removed one possible complication. At attention, but his eyelids drooped. His pale chin showed dark stubble. Haircut, within current regs. Shoes, polished. Whites, neat and clean. The fingers holding his cap next to his thigh were white too. With tension?
    Dan said, “Seaman Arthur Peeples, you are suspected of committing the following violations of the Uniform Code of Military Justice: Article 134, in that you did use indecent language to a senior in your chain of command, to the prejudice of good order and discipline. You do not have to make any statement regarding the offense of which you are accused, and any statement may be used as evidence against you. Has the accused been notified of his rights?”
    “Here, sir. Signed and witnessed.” Staurulakis placed pages on the lectern.
    “You are advised that a captain’s mast is not a trial and that a determination here is not a conviction by a court of law. Further, you are advised that the formal rules that apply in courts-martial do not apply at mast.” When Peeples nodded Dan held up the paper. “Is this your signature?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Do you understand this statement? And were your rights personally explained to you by the exec?”
    A hesitation; then a firm “Yessir. I understand.”
    “All right, good.” Dan gave it a beat; looked around the wardroom. Holding mast was the least favorite part of his job. Being judge, jury, and executioner. But he had a pretty good idea what punishment was in order here, or at least what the typical “award” was and thus what the crew would expect.
    The purpose of mast wasn’t justice. As Melville had made perfectly clear in Billy Budd. Discipline first, consistency second—no one liked a capricious captain, or one who played favorites.
    Dan focused on the now-perspiring young face in front of him. “Peeples, it’s essential we know exactly what happened, both from your point of view as well as that of your senior, Petty Officer Scharner.
    “Now, both the chiefs and the XO felt her accusation warranted bringing you up before me. I will advise you personally that what is best for you right now is to come clean. Equivocate or lie, and life can get unpleasant very fast. Understand?”
    A hesitation, then a nod. “All right,” Dan said, trying for a friendlier tone. “Now what’s your side of the story?”
    “Well, sir … the petty officer, she always gives me the dirtiest jobs. I’m not sure why. I just came off watch, and I was tired, and I had the Savo crud—”
    “The what ?”
    “That’s what they call it, Captain. Anyway, we’re shorthanded in the gang, and I’m headed for my rack when she tells me I’ve got to tear down the fucking … tear down the damn coolant pump. That’s a twelve-, fourteen-hour job, tear down and rebuild. And she wants it by tomorrow morning. I said, how about Petty Officer Alonso, and she said, she’s busy. And that she doesn’t want any back talk, she just wants that pump back on the line. I admit, I lost my temper. But I didn’t call her what she said I called her.”
    “What did she say you called her?” Dan asked him.
    “A fucking cunt,” Peeples murmured.
    Dan cleared his throat, trying hard not to laugh out loud. “The charge sheet doesn’t say that. It quotes you as calling her a, um, hucking skunt. Is that accurate, Seaman?”
    “Uh, yessir, that’s pretty much accurate.”
    “Is it, or not?”
    “Uh, yessir, that’s pretty much it. That’s what I said, sir.”
    A beam of sun leaned in the window and explored the carpet. Dust motes milled through it. Sand, from the deserts of Arabia, the wastes of the Sudan. Was what he was doing here any more important than the milling of those motes? “What exactly is a ‘skunt,’ Seaman Peeples?”
    “Sir?”
    “You called her